


Something Blue

by CapricornBookworm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Background Teddy Lupin/Charlie Weasley, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Tailor Draco Malfoy, Teasing, backroom sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapricornBookworm/pseuds/CapricornBookworm
Summary: Al needs a suit to attend a wedding. Draco Malfoy just happens to be a tailor.





	1. Chapter 1

“May I help you, _Mr Potter?_ "

“Huh?” The youngest Potter boy asked, whirling around like a buffoon in his tight denims and scuffed trainers. The strings of his forest green hoodie swung when he turned. When Potter locked eyes with me, he froze, eyes widening like a mouse who just realized he had been dropped into a snake’s cage. “Uh…” 

“Mr Potter, this is a high-class men's garment store, if you walked in here on accident, as I suspect you did, please make yourself scarce.” I turned away from him, flicking my sleek black wand over towards the door and causing it to fly open. “Exit is that way.”

I sauntered off with a smirk on my face. It had been a long while since I'd had the opportunity to unleash my snark on a Potter. The heels of my shoes made satisfying clicks as I walked away from him, assuming the boy had fled from my shop.

I reached a long black marble table that was lined with silk ties. I ran a finger over the display, trailing through the gradient from a white as pure as my own skin to black flecked with strands of silver. I paused for a moment to straighten a tie that was lying slightly out of place, pointing diagonal where the rest were straight ahead. The silk felt buttery beneath my fingers and I gave a contented sigh. I only carried the most exquisite materials in my shop. 

Adjusting the collar of my shirt, I stepped in front of a mirror. The mirror was custom-made, reaching from floor to ceiling it hovered effortlessly above the floors, serving as the centerpiece of my shop. The mirror almost appeared broken. The edges were jagged and sharp, seeming as though the shape was an accident. In truth, the piece was intended to look just as it did. It was modeled after a small glass shard that I had pocketed during the Battle of Hogwarts all those years ago. Originally belonging to a window in the Great Hall, the shard of glass had glinted up at me like a promise, lying beneath a pile of rubble and ash. It was a promise for life. There was something about the shape I was drawn to. It reminded me both how much had changed, and how dark a past I come from. I can clearly see my reflection in the mirror, but I also see the mirror as a reflection of myself. Broken by dark magic, but still standing.

My gaze was unfocused as I became lost in my thoughts. When the shop came back into view, I noticed a spot in the corner of my vision, a dark shape lingering by the front door. I narrowed my eyes, my pulse sparking and my hand twitching toward the wand concealed in my suit. Just before I threw out a hex for good measure, I realized just what, or whom, was standing there. Albus Potter’s face appeared more clearly and he took a hesitant step toward my back, our eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror. 

“Erm, Mr Malfoy, I did actually...need something…here,” he trailed off pathetically, and really, what were they teaching at Hogwarts these days? It sounded as though he had barely spoken a word in his life. 

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, my own restraint surprising me as I spoke, “And what exactly was it that you needed, boy? It is generally rather difficult to assist someone if they don’t even know what it is they want,” I let my eyes trail down his form in the mirror, landing once more on his worn denims and dirt-coated trainers, “or that they _need_ ,” I added. 

“A suit. I have to wear one for the wedding. It’s er, it’s next Sunday, I think.”

Giving my outfit a final adjustment, I turned toward him with a look of ill-conceived exasperation. “Well, I certainly hope it’s not _your_ wedding, Potter. You look like a child and you can barely remember the date of the event.”

Potter ran a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly avoiding my gaze, his skin tinted pink, “S’not. It’s for Teddy, actually.”

“Lupin’s son?” I questioned.

“Yeah.”

After a moment's pause, I spoke. “His father was a great man,” I said curtly, though my heart stung at my own words. I was well aware of how Nymphadora and Lupin had died. 

The boy looked unsure how to take this information, but settled for nodding and brushing the toe of his shoe against the dark wood floors of my shop.

“Must you scuff up my floors? I keep them meticulously clean and I’d appreciate if you didn’t go chucking loads of grime all over them.”

Potter looked wounded and his movements ceased. He raised his eyes, but they only landed as far as my navel. I almost felt bad for him.

“A suit for Teddy’s wedding, then?” He nodded and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “How traditional is the ceremony?” 

This actually tore a laugh out of Potter, and a smirk came over his face, though he still avoided my gaze, “It’s anything but.”

I felt my eyebrows raise of their own accord, “Oh?”

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I thought back to the last time I had seen Teddy Lupin. He was walking past my shop window several years ago, looking entirely out of place wandering through this row of high-end shops. He was alone and sporting a hairstyle that was shockingly magenta with streaks of black throughout. His outfit was equally garish. Black leather boots laced up nearly to his knees, and a white tee with a deep 'v' at the front, revealing far too much of his chest to be considered decent. His trousers were exceptionally tight and his ensemble was topped with a flowing black robe that appeared to have had the sleeves torn right off of it. The edges near his shoulders were frayed, the black threads standing out against the white of his tee. 

“Well, for one, he's marrying Charlie Weasley,” Potter said with an impish little smirk still emblazoned on his face. 

My usual poise cracked at Potter’s words. “Charlie Weasley!? But he’s -” 

The boy interrupted my words, “Old?” He finally met my gaze. His eyes were piercingly green. 

I tried to regain my composure and not scoff at the boy’s response. “I won't deny that there is a considerable age difference between the pair.”

Potter shrugged his shoulders, “I don't… I guess I don't really think it's that big of a gap.”

I chose to ignore Potter’s comment and the strange way he was now looking at me, deciding instead to focus on the sale. “What kind of suit is it that you need for this _unconventional_ wedding?”

“Erm, well…the suit's not allowed to be black or white. And there's really no other rules, I don't think.”

“Let me ask you, Mr Potter... For a non-traditional, multi-colored, mismatch of a ceremony, why in Merlin’s name did you come to my shop, of all places?” I asked with a sneer on my lips and a sharpness in my gaze. I gestured around the shop and watched as his green eyes trailed around lamely, landing on the plethora of black, grey, and white items displayed around the room. 

His mouth moved as uselessly as a fish and not a word came out.

I gave a sigh and began to walk away, flicking my wrist casually as I went and causing the door of my shop to lock. I did not wish to be disturbed when I was with a client. 

I continued past the mirror towards a door on the back wall. When I reached for the door handle, which was silver and carved like a phoenix, I paused to look behind me. The boy was still standing in the same spot, looking just as ridiculous as before. I struggled to maintain my professional composure, wondering how this boy had possibly made it through life acting so helpless. “Potter, stop standing there like a dolt and follow me. I have colored fabrics in the back.” 

I entered the back room and waved my wand, not even bothering to check on Potter’s progress toward the door. A tornado of fabrics swirled around me as I looked for the right color. Maroon, forest green, burnt orange, mauve, I considered them each but none were quite what I was looking for. Finally a color caught my eye and I let the fabric fall gently through my fingers onto my work table below. It was a soft baby blue. I flicked my wand and the remaining contenders soared sharply back onto the shelves from whence they came. 

Potter was standing near the door and his eyes were following my every movement with rapt attention as though he had never seen magic before. Then he looked down at the fabric lying on the table, and his face scrunched up into a look of utter confusion, “Is that for me?”

“Is there a problem, Mr Potter?” I drawled as I stepped around the table toward him. I delighted in the way that my height allowed me to look down my nose at the boy. I could challenge him with merely the twitch of an eyebrow.

He looked back and forth between the fabric and myself before lifting his chin and answering me with a voice that feigned confidence, “No.”

I smirked down at him, “Good. Take off your shoes and your jumper.”

The confident mask shattered, “Uh, what?”

“Oh bloody hell, I just have to get your measurements." I crossed my arms over my chest, looking at the boy expectantly. "Shoes and jumper _off._ ”

He reached for the hem of his jumper and pulled it over his head with not a shred of grace, the neck getting caught around his ears and his hair becoming mussed in the process.

Though Potter's movements were awkward, there was no denying that he was fit. He had a long torso and his arms were covered in lean muscles. The trousers he wore sat low on his hips, and as he turned and bent to remove his trainers, I noticed a set of small dimples on his lower back. He hopped around when his left shoe wouldn’t come off, a noticeable flush staining his cheeks when he had finally removed the offending shoe. 

He looked vulnerable standing there in just a pair of tight trousers and socks. My gaze dropped to the floor and I noticed the mess he had made. His jumper and trainers strewn about my floor as though my work space was a rubbish bin. “Pick those up, Potter. Don’t just treat my shop like your, undoubtedly messy, bedroom.”

Potter nodded and immediately grabbed for his things, folding his jumper semi-neatly and placing his garments on an empty shelf behind him. I had the urge to refold the jumper myself and to use a few cleaning spells on his dirty old trainers, but I refrained. 

“Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart and raise your arms out to the side.” I watched as he shuffled his feet out to the sides, lifting his arms self-consciously and looking back to me, as if for approval of his position. The stance made Potter’s trousers fall lower on his hips, and his arm muscles were stretched taut in an effort to keep them lifted outwards. 

I most certainly approved. 

Typically I completed measurements with my wand, as the Muggle method was rather lengthy. However, I hesitated as I reached for my wand. My hand hovered for a moment near the pocket of my suit, before I walked over to my work table and picked up a Muggle fabric ruler instead. I ran my thumb over the the numbers dotted along it's surface, attempting to convince myself that these rulers were more...'authentic' and therefore more accurate. I told myself that I was simply testing out this ruler for increased accuracy. I was trying to improve my tailoring and thereby increase customer satisfaction. I was bloody well _not_ using a tedious non-magic method because it meant that these measurements were now going to be quite a bit more _hands on_ than usual. 

As I stepped towards Potter, he licked his lips nervously, his eyes flitting around as though he was unsure where to look.

I started slow. First, I took a measurement of his wingspan. I asked him to hold one end of the ruler his hand while I stretched the flexible material across Potter’s arms and chest, taking care to be precise and stopping only when I reached the tips of his fingers on the opposite side. The hints of skin I brushed along the way were exceptionally soft, and his tanned complexion contrasted strongly with my own pale skin. 

Next, I planned to measure his torso. I stepped into his space, now standing so closely that I could feel his body heat intertwining with mine. I reached my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers from the nape of his neck and following the vertebrae down until I found what I was looking for. My fingers trailed gently through the hair at the base of his neck until I found the point where his neck met the vertebrae of his spine. The boy let out a shaky exhale at my touch, the warm breath blowing lightly across my collarbone. I hesitated before moving on, and he lifted his head up toward me, our eyes connecting. Neither of us spoke, but I noticed that his pupils looked larger and darker than they had been a few moments before. 

I released my arms from around the boy’s neck and went to stand behind him. When my hands made contact with the skin of his waist, his body went momentarily stiff, his neck muscles tensing. I brought the ruler up to his waist and wrapped it around until it connected with the other end. I noted that Potter had a slim waist, his body softly sloping inward. He had a small birthmark following this slope on the left side, the darker skin there in a shape that resembled a crescent moon. My fingers were tracing the small mark before I even registered what I was doing. Potter let a tiny sigh at my touch, the sound nearly imperceptible. I observed the tension melting from his neck and shoulders. 

When my mind caught up with my actions, I removed my fingers from the birthmark and attempted to refocus on the task at hand. I placed both hands just below his waist, and I stepped a bit closer so that I could see the path my hands were about to follow. I dragged my hands slowly down his abdomen, my fingertips picking up on every indentation and scar, every jutting bone and firm muscle along the way. Potter’s posture faltered as my hands continued down, resting just above the top of his trousers. 

My chin was nearly resting on his shoulder now, my mouth close to his ear. My back was aligned with the boy’s own. I slipped my fingertips just beneath the waistband of his trousers, and Potter swallowed audibly. I used my current position to speak softly in his ear, “Just finding your hip bones so I can take a proper measurement of your torso.”

Potter nodded and tilted his chin down, watching my hands and letting out a small breath. I moved my fingers out towards the sides until I found a ridge protruding on both the right and the left. His trousers were rather tight, and though I could have taken the measurement without removing any layers, I always strive to be as _accurate_ as possible. After all, I am a Slytherin. 

I slipped my hands out from beneath Potter's trousers and reached for the button. My fingers popped it open with ease and Potter released a small sound, something between a question and a moan. Then I found the tag of his zipper, pulling it slowly. The rough sound it made as it was pulled down seemed magnified in the quiet and seclusion of the back room. When the zipper reached the bottom, I parted the flaps of his trousers with careful hands and got a glimpse of his briefs below. 

They were charcoal grey with a wide black band at the top. I ran a finger over it, feeling the silky smooth texture of the band and realizing that I owned the same exact briefs. The boy clearly had good taste.

Potter shook at my touch. I wondered whether he had ever had anyone touch him quite like I was. 

I hoped not. 

I pushed his trousers down a tad and then folded the band of his briefs over once, revealing even more bronze skin, this time with a trail of coarse black hair leading beneath the fabric. His hipbones were also revealed, protruding beautifully and allowing me to take a much better measurement for his suit. I cast a silent _Accio,_ and the ruler flew back into my hand. When I stretched the material from one hipbone to the other, my hand brushed gently over the bulge in his briefs and his head dropped back onto my shoulder with a low gasp. 

There was a moment where I opened my mouth as if to apologize to the boy, but Potter looked plenty happy with the moment of contact and I decided against it. Why apologize for something he was obviously enjoying? _Obviously needing._

I brushed my hand over the bulge once more and elicited a groan of pleasure. Potter lowered his arms and turned his face in toward my neck. I could feel his breath stutter out over my skin and he pushed his hips into my hands. 

“Do you want more?” I asked, my voice low and steady in his ear. 

Potter nodded, his nose brushing lightly against my neck as he did so. 

I hooked my thumbs into the loops of his trousers and pulled them down until they fell at his feet. Then just his briefs remained. I teased a finger over the waistband. When I moved my finger further, intending to trace over the outline of Potter’s hard cock, he let out a delicious whine. Flames ignited hot and burning in the pit of my stomach, while my cock twitched heavily in my trousers. 

I decided to reward him. 

Instead of tracing him through the thin fabric of his briefs, I pulled them down. His cock bobbed as it was uncovered. He was flushed and straining. I was pleasantly surprised by how well-groomed he was. Dark hair surrounded Potter's cock, but it looked carefully trimmed and attended to. I appreciated this little detail and wrapped my hand firmly around the base.

He let out a cry when my hand was finally surrounding his length. The boy’s body felt hot to the touch and his cock was practically scorching. It was thicker than my own, and it was cut. The head was darker than the shaft and it glistened with precum when I ran a finger just beneath it. 

I used my free hand to explore the rest of his body, trailing my fingers from his hipbones to his birthmark, down to pet lightly over his balls, and then back up to pinch a nipple taut. 

Potter was falling apart in my hands. He shook against me, his legs seeming barely able to hold him up. It was evident that he was not going to last long. I intended to make this moment as pleasurable as possible, both for Potter and for myself. I shifted in closer to him, my own trouser-covered cock nestling in the space between his toned arse cheeks. The unexpected contact shocked a curse out of Potter, “ _Fuck_ , Malfoy.” 

Turning my head so that my lips brushed his ear, I whispered, “It's Draco, Mr Potter.”

He let out of huff of laughter, his cock twitching in my hand. “It's Al, Draco.”

My gut clenched at his words. I couldn't help my attraction to his boldness and attitude. It was my wretched weakness, and Al was the very essence of my weakness. I somehow felt drunk on our interactions. Drunk on the power I held over him. 

I twisted my wrist sharply as I wanked him, his body thrumming and heart pounding with each stroke. He brought a hand up to clutch at my forearm and I could feel his pulse beating insistently against my skin. I could see the muscles of his abdomen clenching harder with each stroke. The boy was close.

Al thrust his hips, simultaneously begging me to finish him off, while also brushing back against my clothed cock. I moved my hand over his cock with increased vigor while I pressed his body tighter against my chest. His body arched into my touch, his hand gripping my forearm so tightly that his nails dug into my skin. 

Suddenly I slowed my movements and stroked gently over the head of his prick. It leaked onto my fingers while Al panted hotly into my neck. I felt his eyelashes flutter against my skin. For several moments, I continued my tender assault on his cock head, reveling in each gasp, curse, and shaken moan I drew out of him. 

While one of Al’s hand clutched desperately onto my forearm, the other reached back, grabbing a handful of my suit coat in his fist, tugging on it as if trying to pull me impossibly closer. I hooked my chin over his shoulder and rubbed my cock against his arse, my fingers still teasing him relentlessly. His cock was now leaking in earnest as his body shook with pleasure and need. I removed my finger momentarily and Al let out an otherworldly cry, his body rolling back against my own while his hips jerked forward. His body seemed bloody _desperate_ for a release. 

He was taking it all so beautifully, though. His chest flushed and gleaming beneath my hands. His cock thick, heavy, and pulsing. 

I took pity on the boy.

Reaching up, I pet a hand softly through his messy hair. A sheen of sweat was coating his forehead and he sighed at my touch. Then I brought my other hand down to wrap itself around his cock once more. I didn't hesitate this time, my hand moving in fast, sure movements. I adjusted my technique to his reactions and could tell the moment before he was about to come. He pressed his face in closer to my neck, his body practically vibrating with arousal as he took short, sharp breaths. When my hand began to move even faster than before, he called out my name, “ _Draco._ Fuck, Draco. Ah - p-please.” 

I don't even quite know why I replied, why I acknowledged his breathy pleas, but I did. It came out in a whisper, “I'm here. I'm right here.” 

I mentally berated myself for saying something so pathetic and so unlike my typical replies. My voice sounded foreign and distant in my own ears, but Al hummed in response and I swore that I felt his lips brush against my neck, almost like a kiss.

His body began to pull tight, his muscles clenching as my hand moved at a furious pace over his cock. The boy threw his head further back over my shoulder, tossing it this way and that, before pressing it insistently back into the side of my neck. He then spoke, his voice sounding broken, “Say my name.”

Though my hand continued its motions, the rest of my body froze. My posture tensed uncomfortably and I had the sudden urge to shove the boy away, to watch him fall to the ground in a heap of tanned skin and a flushed, uncomfortably hard cock. 

Before I could do anything of the sort, he took hold of my free hand and repeated his request, “Draco, say my name.” This time his voice was quieter but more adamant. 

I squeezed his cock where I held it captive in my hand before wanking him furiously, a fire in my gut and the shadow of self-loathing looming behind me. 

_“Al.”_ I breathed out his name as if it was a deadly curse. It felt dangerous as it slipped off my tongue. “Come for me, Al.” 

Before I could even take another breath, Al was coming in long streaks over his abs and chest, a bit landing on my fingers and forearm as well. As his orgasm rushed out of his body, he slumped back into my arms, his body going limp. For a moment I feared that the boy had lost consciousness, but then he rubbed his nose back and forth across my neck and slurred out something that sounded similar to “Thank you.” 

I suddenly realized that I had no idea what I was doing with this boy. What in Merlin’s name had possessed me to feel up Potter’s son? And, _fucking hell_ , how did we get to this point? Young Albus Potter naked and covered in come as he nuzzled against my neck. My arms wrapped around him possessively while my own hard cock was pressed against his bare arse. 

Though my arms remained tight around him, holding him up, my mind shattered to pieces and I felt the need to go drown my self-loathing and idiotic mistakes in several bottles of fine whisky. 

The crushing weight in my chest shifted as Al turned in my arms, staring up at me with his obnoxiously green eyes, a shy smirk forming on his flushed lips. My gaze traveled down his body and rested on the come covering his torso. I reached for my wand, but his hand stopped me. 

“I think I'll keep it there, actually. Erm, unless you'd prefer it clean.”

I choked on my thoughts and my words, my hand falling lamely at my side. 

His cheeks flared pink when he saw my face, and he looked back down, speaking with significantly less confidence than a moment before, “S’just this was my first time. I guess I didn't want it to end quite yet.”

A lightning storm of emotions struck me at his words. So this _was_ the boy’s first time. I felt a mixture of disgust at myself for stealing that from him, but I also couldn’t deny the waves of pride and possession that shot through me when I realized I was his first. 

I was at a loss for words.

And apparently, so was Al.

He leaned up and placed a featherlight kiss on my lips. 

For having so many years on the boy, I suddenly didn't know what to do with myself. I certainly had no shortage of experience with kissing and one-night stands, but this felt different in a way that I didn't have words to explain. 

Al was like a Patronus charm. It's impossible to explain to someone just quite how it feels to conceptualize and produce a fully-fledged Patronus. Let alone how it feels when you produce one spontaneously. The first few times you try using it in combat or for protection, you forget every damn thing and freeze as though you've never cast one before. When Al kissed me, I felt as though I was being faced with a threat and suddenly forgot any means to defend myself.

My hands moved of their own accord, and I dragged him back toward me by the hips before he had time to step away. Our lips connected once more. 

Hints of my instinct, the beginnings of a Patronus, were resurfacing. 

His lips parted just briefly and I took advantage, sliding my tongue into his mouth and feeling his warmth surround me. He kissed me back with equal fervor, his enthusiasm making up for his lacking technique. 

He kissed me as though the world was ending, but his body was relaxed and pliant. He was melting into me. When he sighed into my mouth, his arms wrapping around my neck, I felt a burst of bright white light. 

It was blinding.

****


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later, the boy was perched on my worktable, eating a plate of food from a Muggle restaurant a few blocks over. He spoke as he chewed, his manners truly abysmal, and he had a bit of curry stuck in the corner of his mouth. Al was clad in his jumper from earlier and a pair of fresh briefs. They were actually mine, but I let him borrow them. 

He was prattling on about some new animal emporium that had been built in Diagon Alley. I was only half listening, my attention focused on the fabric below me, my wand moving in intricate motions as I worked on Al’s suit. It was turning out just as I had envisioned. With a final flourish of my wrist, it was finished.

“- So I was thinking that maybe I’d get the boa constrictor, they said they were going to -”

“Al,” I attempted to interject. 

“- get rid of ‘em if no one came to get it soon. It was young too, no reason I couldn’t take care of it and all -”

I gave a drawn out sigh and repeated his name to no avail. He went on for another moment before I snapped my fingers impatiently and barked at him, “Potter!”

He jumped and turned to stare at me as though I had just hexed him, “Blimey, Draco. What do you want?”

Stepping towards him, I yanked the plate of food out of his grasp, flicking my wand and causing it to soar up until it was hovering high above his head. He let out a noise of protest, “You’ll get it back in a minute. I need you to try this on. ”

He rolled his eyes and hopped down off the table, “Couldn't have waited 5 minutes?” He then reached for the hem of his jumper, pulling it off in a manner that left his hair sticking up all over his head. “Only had a bit left to eat, really.”

I handed him the trousers and watched as he stepped into them. The light blue fabric formed to his body like a glove. 

“You know, it'll be cold by the time I'm done trying this on,” Al complained, though there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“I'll heat it back up, you whiny git.”

“What a _gentleman_ ,” he replied, as he attempted to pull the trousers onto his other leg. The opening got caught around his heel and he began yanking at it roughly. I stepped forward and slapped his hands away.

“Stop it, stop - move your hands! I swear, it's as if you've never even put on a pair of trousers before. How the hell have you survived this long?” I smacked his hand when he reached for the button again, and unhooked the trouser leg from around his bare heel. When I zipped them up, I took a step back to admire my handiwork. 

Al held out his hands, spinning slowly in a circle and allowing me to admire how deliciously the trousers hugged his arse, “Well?”

I turned my nose up at him, and crossed my arms over my chest, “It's a miracle that I was able to make such a fantastic garment in this short span of time. I even managed to make _you_ look half-decent.”

“Half-decent?!” Al stepped into my space and poked a finger at my chest, “You complete arsehole! I know that you like the way I look. Couldn't even finish my measurements earlier because you had to stop to wank me off.”

“Oh, fuck you.” I reached behind him and grabbed the suit jacket, holding it out so that he could push his arms into the sleeves. Once the jacket was on him, I took a moment to smooth out the shoulders, reaching down to button it up with quick fingers, “You were practically begging for it.”

Instead of the snarky response I was expecting, Al tilted his head at me, messy black hairs falling down to cover his right eye. “I’d been thinking about it for a while. Wanted it more than you know.” His voice was small, almost hesitant.

My chest clenched and my mouth went dry. I busied myself with his suit, fiddling once more with the button and the lapels, stroking my hands down his arms and over his waist. I avoided his gaze, unsure how to answer him. I had so many questions and yet I didn’t want to know the answers. A question came out against my better judgement, “How long?”

“A while.”

I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes landing on the hovering plate of curry and looking to it for help. I let out a sigh, “How long, Al?”

When he answered, it came out sounding like a question, “Four years?”

“Fucking hell, Al. That’s… you were fourteen.”

Al crossed his arms defensively over his chest, letting out a small self-deprecating laugh, “Yeah, and you were as gorgeous as ever. Met you at Hermione’s benefit for the House Elves. Your jacket was maroon leather, and _Merlin_ , your trousers were tight, Draco. I couldn’t help myself. You barely said two words to me, but I followed you around all night and went home thinking about you. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“So you didn’t stumble into my shop on accident, then?”

Al laughed a bit more and his cheeks burned red, “Well, I did stumble. But coming in here was definitely not an accident.”

I nodded absently and attempted to process this information. Al opened his mouth as if to say something. I could feel an apology coming and I was not about to let it happen. I swirled my wand and the plate of curry hovering above us landed hot and steaming in my outstretched hand. I shoved it toward Al. “Eat your curry. And don’t you fucking dare get anything on your suit.”

His facial expression was a look of confusion with a hint of delight when his nose filled with the smell of the food. “Erm, wouldn't it be easier just to take the suit off first?”

My mind was running too quickly for me to reply, but I muttered a spell and the boy was suddenly standing stark naked with only a plate of curry in his hands. He looked down at himself, and then shrugged. “Works for me.”

He leaned casually against the edge of the table, scooping spoonfuls of the hot food into his mouth while I silently admired every inch of his tanned skin and toned body. 

I suddenly couldn’t understand how this fit young man wanted anything to do with me. With the ex-Death Eater who had tortured his father and insulted the Weasley and Granger families on far more than one occasion. My brain seemed unable to comprehend it al, and wards began to shoot up inside of me, walls that blocked out Al and attempted to convince me to flee and never come back. 

Al continued to eat his food without a care in the world, his soft cock swinging when he pushed away from the worktable to grab his goblet of water from a spare shelf. When he drank, I could see his Adam’s apple bob in a way that shouldn’t be so damn attractive. I licked my lips with interest, and words came spilling out of my mouth though I had not intended to speak, “So, you are actually attracted to me?”

Apparently I chose the wrong moment to ask such a question. Al nearly choked on his mouthful of water, coughing a bit and then swallowing roughly as he looked at me, his eyes glistening, “Huh?”

“You _are_ attracted to me? You aren’t planning some sort of blackmail? Aren’t trying to get me in trouble with the Ministry or shut down my business?”

“Draco, what the fuck are you on about? Did someone cast a _Confundus_ on you when I wasn’t looking?” Al asked, his brows furrowed as he walked toward me. 

I turned away from him, not wanting to look in his eyes and possibly say something equally as ridiculous. I waved my hand in an attempt to deter him, staring at the library of fabrics lining the back wall. “Go back to eating your curry. You looked about ready to bathe in it.”

Al quickly chucked his food into a nearby wastebasket and stepped closer toward me, “Screw the food.” 

I walked away to a different part of my back room, straightening fabrics and threads impulsively along the way, nausea creeping into my stomach and my heart threatening to crawl into my throat. 

The boy ran after me. He ducked and weaved his way into my line of sight, staring at me with a hardened look on his face when I finally ceased moving. “Look, Draco. I've been dreaming of being with you for years. I'm not about to let you shut me out so simply. And I -” He paused. “I mean - I feel like I can see that you don’t want to push me away.” Al ran a hand self-consciously through his hair. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you want me. Maybe even for more than just a fuck.” 

When his eyes met mine, he so strongly resembled the shy boy who had walked into my shop earlier that day. He looked nervous and unsure, confidence brewing under the surface, though it was not quite there yet. 

I sighed and wiped a hand over my mouth.

 _I do want you,_ I thought.

Silence stretched between us, getting thinner and thinner until it finally shattered. “I do want you.” My voice came out as cracked and broken as I felt. 

His eyes lit up, and it was almost painful to see him look so hopeful when I knew just how fucked up my past was. 

It was as if he had read my thoughts. “I want you too. And, I'm not here to destroy or blackmail or hurt anyone or anything. And I don't give a single _fuck_ about this,” he grabbed my arm and shoved up the sleeve of my shirt, exposing the Dark Mark. Twisted and horrible, forever staining my body. A constant reminder of all I had done wrong. But Al pressed over it, looking at me with an open and earnest expression. “Draco, I don't care about it. You're not that person.”

I felt my skin turn warm under his touch, and my head was spinning. 

He leaned in toward me, placing a brief kiss on my jawline. Then his lips moved and he whispered into my mouth, making everything fade to black around me, “Don't overthink this. Just feel.”

We kissed as if we were drowning. Falling between the cracks of my hardwood floors, down, down, down. It felt carefree and yet so fucking intimate that it seemed as though we were melding into one.

I thread my fingers through his hair, holding onto him, my heart beating a tattoo against my chest. I could taste the spice of curry on his tongue, could feel it burn and set my senses alight. He let out a desperate moan, his breath flowing shakily across my lips. 

We stumbled back towards a wall lined with fabric and I felt his cock pressing against my thigh, his length swelling when it made contact with my own body. I wanted nothing more than to Apparate us upstairs to the apartment above my shop and ravage him. I wanted to get down on my knees and swallow his cock until my nose brushed the neatly trimmed hair around the base. Wanted to shove him up against the front door and rim his arse with such passion that he became putty in my hands. Wanted to finger him slowly, torturously, to rub over his prostate until he was begging me for more. More than anything I wanted to shove off my bloody trousers and fuck him into the mattress. 

I opened my eyes for a moment, intending to right myself before Apparating us both upstairs, but when my vision steadied, a swatch of light blue silk caught my eye. Al was unbuttoning my shirt swiftly, trailing clumsy kisses down my neck and chest as he went, and my brain struggled to hang on to my fleeting thought, “Al. Al, wait just a second.”

Al's voice was muffled when it came out, his mouth moving over to tease a nipple and causing a rush of pleasure to surge through my body. “Don't wanna.” He took the nub gently between his teeth, “Wanna suck you off. Never done it before.”

I clenched my teeth when his lips surrounded my nipple with heat, and hissed out a response with great difficulty, “Rehearsal dinner… _Fuck_ , don't you have the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

“Oh, bloody hell!” Al collapsed onto his knees at my feet, leaning his head against my hip and whining. “Why'd it have to be tonight? I had plans. Plans involving my mouth and your prick. Haven't even got to see it yet.” He pouted up at me.

I couldn't help the fond smile that took over my face, “No. Oi! Stop staring at me like that. Go get your arse dressed; you have to go to the dinner.” 

“I could be fashionably late?” Al suggested, his eyes dark and his fingers trailing teasingly over the inseam on my thigh. I swatted his hand away.

“There's nothing fashionable about showing up with cum-stained trousers and hair that looks like you haven't left the bed in days,” I replied. I let my fingers run through the unruly black strands, tugging on them just slightly. His mouth fell open, lips parting beautifully below me. 

He hummed and then bit his lip, eyes fluttering, “I think s’plenty fashionable. Could be this season’s hottest look. Everyone will be jealous that I got so thoroughly fucked. Nothing wrong with a good shag, Draco.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me and I shook my head in feigned disapproval, barely suppressing a laugh.

“Well, I assume your family doesn’t exactly _want_ to know whether your having sex or not.” 

Al shrugged, “Eh. Who cares? That's my business, not theirs.”

“I think they'd care if they knew it was me you were shagging.” My smile turned dark and I couldn't keep the twinge of anger out of my voice, the reality of my words tasting bitter in my mouth. 

“Oh for fucks sake -” Al pushed himself off the ground and locked eyes with me, “They'll get used to it eventually. Had to deal with Charlie and Teddy getting together, didn’t they? I mean, they have an even bigger age difference than us. We're practically the same age compared to them.”

My chest was constricting tightly at the implication of Al’s words. He was talking as if we were going to be together for a while. I wanted to berate the boy for his presumptuousness, and yet scold myself for being able to see us together so easily. I was developing a deadly weakness for the boy. My heart was pounding uncomfortably fast and I felt perspiration building at the base of my spine. I tried not to let the effect his words were having on me show.

I rolled my eyes and turned my nose up in a show of haughtiness, “That's bollocks and you know it…” I paused, attempting to swallow around the lump in my throat, “...Regardless, age isn't my concern.”

Al let out a sigh, “I know it's not. I’m not an idiot. Just trying to make you feel better is all.” Al ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, scratching at the hairs on the nape of his neck.

His posture and mannerisms made him seem boyish, though his words spoke volumes about his maturity. 

“Look, my family and your family have some long drawn out feud. You hated my dad, he hated you, and you used to make stupid choices. The list goes on. But all of that?” Al gestured with no grace, merely flailing his arms. “Doesn't matter. None of it matters to me.” Al took in a labored breath, “But if that anger, all that former hatred - if that's really going to stop you, then maybe you're not the man I thought you were.”

I clenched my jaw, teeth pressing painfully together, while my manicured fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. I don’t whether it was the honesty of the words, or the identity of the boy who was saying them, that was causing me more tension.

I despised how vulnerable I felt under Al’s gaze. 

The silence stretched on for too long. The hope and determination emanating from the boy was fading, his body seeming to adopt the tension flowing through my own veins. I knew I needed to speak up lest I lose him altogether. Yet, I felt paralyzed, unable to move my mouth or limbs. 

I was frozen, and time was moving steadily forward around me.

I watched, as if in slow motion, as Al suddenly stormed away, defeat and disappointment painting his features. He looked as much angry as he was heartbroken. I saw him reach for the suit, which lay neatly folded on my work table. He skimmed his fingers gently across the material before he withdrew his hand. It was as though he could no longer bear to wear it. At his moment of hesitation, something inside me snapped. Not a moment later I was sprinting across my backroom, stopping Al before he could do something we would both regret.

I grabbed his arm, spinning him towards me, “Look, I’ve done a lot of terrible things, I lack many redeeming qualities, and I tend to loathe myself. But I cannot let you leave here without this suit, and I bloody well cannot let you leave here thinking that I don’t want to give this a try.” I paused, feeling lighter than I had in a long time as I spoke with complete honesty, “Because as utterly mad as it sounds, I do... I want to give this a try.” Al was looking at me with a beautiful mixture of relief, surprise, and that one little thing that I had always struggled to hold onto: _hope._

I helped Al get dressed, trying and dismally failing not to kiss him along the way. As I finished smoothing out his suit and attempting to comb his free-spirited hair, Al stepped in front of the mirror in the main part of my shop. 

He looked nothing short of exquisite. Though the suit fit him like a second skin, it was the color that was most impactful. It made his tanned skin glow with warmth and it brought out the flecks of blue in his emerald green eyes. 

We locked eyes in the mirror, and I felt as though I had fallen suddenly off a broomstick, my heart and stomach soaring up into my throat. The boy turned around and kissed me, the taste of his lips leaving me wanting more even when we had not yet parted. Before long, he was running out the door, Apparating off to the wedding.

A sigh poured out of me, and I mentally berated myself for acting so terribly pathetic.

Albus Potter had turned me into a sap. 

Yet, when I thought back on the events of the day, I couldn’t find it in me to be upset. I shook my head and turned back towards my work room, coming face-to-face with the mirror. I took a moment to examine it. I took in it’s rough edges and the dark magic that had caused them. I took in the way it was floating so gracefully in my shop, glinting when it caught a beam of moonlight coming in through the front windows. This mirror had always served as my beacon of hope, though I never quite understood what I should be hopeful for, aside from the privilege of being alive.

At that moment, I finally understood what it all meant.

While I was the broken mirror, Al was the hope I had been waiting for all these years.

****

**Author's Note:**

> Albus is 18 in this fic. 
> 
> There is a second chapter coming soon. Hope you all enjoyed this!


End file.
